


How Soon Is Now

by newbatgirl



Series: Two of Us [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbatgirl/pseuds/newbatgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after the events of Two of Us Chloe and Oliver mull their next steps, both for their relationship and the League.<br/>This won't make any sense unless you read Two of Us so do that first if you have not already. Basically the plot of this fic was teased in that story with this line from Bruce. "Oliver...At some point in your future, you're going to come to Gotham to ask me to join the League and I'm going to be a jackass about it. More than a jackass. I can't go back and change that but I can say that I'm sorry...and that you were right. I do need the Justice League."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> As with all of my stories, will utilize alternating POV of the main characters: Chloe, Oliver, and Bruce. Let's start with Bruce this time.

**Chapter One  
**  
 _Gotham City...Wayne Manor...Late Evening...  
_  
Bruce Wayne was late to his own birthday gala. Quite late in fact. It was times like this that Alfred Pennyworth's acting talents came in handy. Alfred was able say with a straight face to Bruce's guests that Mr. Wayne was simply late because he “attending to a business matter” while somehow tacitly implying that the business matter was female and friendly. 

It was a rare gift. 

One that came in handy at times like this when circumstances, or in this case, gang fights, threw a wrench into his schedule.

He smoothed down his tie, adjusted the collar of his tux jacket and pushed open the doors to the ballroom, self-assured smile in place. If he was late, he might as well make an entrance. 

After making sure that there were eyes on him, Bruce made a show of checking that his fly was zipped. He winked at the closest pretty woman – a willowy redhead - and shrugged off the glare her date sent him in response. He shook the hands of a few business associates, kissed the cheeks of some women he passed as he moved through the room and tossed back a drink that Alfred handed him – non-alcoholic – but no one else knew that. All without breaking stride.

It was a dance. A carefully orchestrated dance. Moving from person to person. A smile there, a leer there. A corny joke here, a marginally lewd reference there. Turn and repeat. He knew the rhythm well and had practiced the steps. 

Another exclusive black-tie party the mansion. This week's excuse for a party: his own birthday. No sense in waiting for someone else to throw a party for you. When you were rich, you could do it yourself. In this case he'd made his birthday party into a $1,000 a head fundraiser for the Gotham Heroes Fund, the scholarship fund for the children of Gotham Police Officers and Firefighters killed in the line of duty. A worthy cause more dear to Bruce Wayne they he would ever let on. Still, most of the people in the room were here to see and be seen and hadn't given a second thought about who their accountants wrote the checks to for the evening. 

As long as there was gourmet food to pretend to eat, plenty to drink, and photographers to snap photos of them in their designer garb, the vast majority of the guests would have come out tonight for the Elmer Fudd-Bugs Bunny Peace Accords Dinner and not batted an eyelash. 

The invitations had included not only Gotham's wealthy, but millionaires, billionaires, and influencers from all over the country, who ponied up the carbon credits to fly in on their private jets for the evening. 

Bruce chatted up a few Silicon Valley millionaires in the corner, pretending to be baffled by their techno-babble. A casino magnate and his ex-stripper wife greeted him as if they were old friends. They weren't, but that didn't stop the wife from reaching for his ass behind her husband's back. 

A hedge-fund manager known to have more than two dozen members of Congress on his payroll slipped a card into his tux pocket and suggested that they should “have a chat.” 

They milled around him in all their well-coiffed, spray-tanned, Botoxed glory. B-list celebs, politicians, financiers, and more. All colors, shapes, and sizes. The minutes ticked by. It was going to be a long night. 

Bruce checked his watch and caught Alfred's eye. The older man frowned and shook his head. It would be at least an hour before they could present the oversized prop check to the head of the scholarship fund and cut the cake, and another two before they could begin the arduous task of getting these people out of his house. 

Bruce grabbed another drink from Alfred and scanned the room for people he had not yet greeted. He spotted two figures wrapped around each other on the edge of the dance floor and recognized the man as Oliver Queen.

Yes, Oliver. Who had been marginally annoying as a schoolmate and until a couple of years ago seemed Hell bent on destroying himself before the age of 25. Something had turned him around. Oliver Queen now commanded some degree of respect in the business community. 

Bruce also knew quite a but about the “hobbies” Oliver Queen had picked in the last few years. Hobbies that were strangely similar to his own. But Oliver had gone one step further, and seemed to be assembling some kind of underground team of vigilantes. Vigilantes with an agenda in the form of Lex Luthor. 

Lex Luthor wasn't Bruce Wayne's favorite person in the world but he had no firsthand knowledge of Lex's dealings. And with a city full of obviously insane freaks to deal with, Bruce had no time to obsess about Lex's or Oliver Queen's hobbies, for that matter.

If Queen fancied himself a vigilante, so be it. As long as he kept his arrows safely stowed while he was in Gotham, Bruce didn't need to think about him. He and his little crew could do what they wanted in Metropolis, Star City or wherever they were these days.

From where Bruce stood at this moment, however, Oliver Queen didn't seem to have Lex Luthor, crime-fighting, or anything else on his mind, other than the curvy blond in his arms. Which struck Bruce as odd given that he thought Oliver had given up womanizing a few years back along with most of his other vices. 

Bruce studied the small blond, a somewhat difficult task given that her back was facing him. Too short for an underwear model, Oliver's old preference. Wrapped in a deep green silk dress that dipped so low in the back that it skirted the edges of respectability. For what it was worth, she had just about the best ass in the room, Bruce mused. And that was saying something. She had golden blond wavy hair that was piled loosely on her head with emerald tipped clips. 

Oliver leaned down to whisper in the woman's ear and they stopped dancing. Instead, Oliver met Bruce's eye, and started towards him, leading his companion along beside him. 

Oliver extended his hand when they reached him. “Happy Birthday, Bruce. It's been a long time.”

Bruce shook his hand and ran his eyes over the smaller blond, in full playboy mode. “And this must be your 'and guest.' I don't believe I've had the pleasure?”

“Bruce Wayne, Chloe Sullivan.”

“Bruce Wayne. I've heard a lot about you.” she said. The woman's eyes were deep green and narrowed slightly as she shook his hand. She didn't smile flirtatiously, simper, or wink like so many others. She seemed to simply...assess him. Bruce found it odd for a moment before collecting himself.

“Have we met before?” he asked her. Perhaps they'd met at party or other event. It might explain the look she'd given him - she was irked at not being remembered. Women hated that. 

“No, I can assure you, Mr. Wayne, you've never met me,” she told him confidently. 

The phrasing was odd and Bruce waited for her to explain, but she didn't and Oliver, for some reason, found this funny. “Call me Bruce. I always let beautiful woman call me by my first name.” he teased and was disappointed when she again didn't respond as expected. Instead, she actually smirked at him and rolled her eyes at Oliver. Bruce made a note of her name. There was definitely something unsettling about this woman. 

Time to change the subject.

“Oliver, I'm really touched that you and Ms. Sullivan would fly all the way out here for my birthday. I know how busy you are.” Bruce said, wondering how Oliver would react to him knowing about his Green Arrow activities. Probably not well. 

Oliver ran his hand up and down Chloe Sullivan's bare arm. “I'll admit your party was the catalyst but I also have some business on Gotham and Chloe's never been here... And we both could use a break from work, some time alone. We actually plan on being here for a few days.”

Before Bruce could answer, a cell phone rang and Chloe Sullivan reached into her beaded evening bag to extract her phone. She read the display and exchanged a look with Oliver, who nodded at her. “I need to take this, I'll be back in a minute.” she leaned up to kiss Oliver's cheek, then left the duo, walking towards the ballroom doors in a swirl of undulating green silk and chiffon. 

Bruce had to admit that she looked really good leaving. He grinned at Oliver. “Nice...very nice...although not many woman I know would walk away from me to take a phone call. She seemed underwhelmed by meeting me. Don't tell me I'm losing my touch?”

“I wouldn't loose too much sleep over it. There are any number of woman in this room who can't operate a cell phone and would be perfectly happy to speak to you all night. Chloe's smarter than that. Plus, she's with me.”

“Fair enough. So what's the big emergency that she would risk insulting Gotham's favorite son?”

Oliver grabbed a cola from a passing waiter. “Work,” he said simply. “Come with me for for a minute, we need to chat.” 

Oliver didn't bother to wait to see if Bruce was following him as he headed towards a quieter corner of the ballroom. Bruce followed, but mostly because he was curious. Anxious to keep things light, he stuck his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants. “Look, if this is about me staring at your date's ass...you really can't blame me.”

“Fiancee.” 

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Fiancee...well, that is news. Congratulations. Now I  _am_ sorry for staring at her ass. You should have warned me.”

“Thanks, but that's besides the point. We need to talk business.”

“Business, here? Come on, Queen, lighten up, it's a party. No need to spoil it with company talk.” Bruce chided.

“Not company business, Bruce. Other business. The kind of business that makes you late for your own birthday party because you're breaking up gang wars in the Narrows.”

The smile faded from Bruce's face. “Sorry?”

“Two rival gangs picked tonight to start a war. You had to trade your tux for a cape at the last minute. Took longer than you expected. Any of this ringing a bell?”

Bruce stiffened. “I don't know what you think you're talking about but...”

Oliver looked unfazed by Bruce's change in demeanor. “Come on, now it's your turn to lighten up. I know. You hear me? I know. And I know that you know about my moonlighting so let's just save the denial conversation and cut straight to the business talk. I have a proposition for you.”

Bruce's mind was racing, he took a look around the room to make sure no one was listening before he spoke again. “Let me guess, you want me to join you and your merry band?”

Oliver shrugged. “It turns out we might have an opening for a bass player.”

Bruce frowned. “I'll pass.” He tried to step away but Oliver stopped him.

“Not so fast, Batsy. You should hear us out on this at least. Call it professional courtesy. We're in the same line of work, for largely the same reasons. Least you can do is give us a bit of your time.”

Bruce winced at Oliver's choice of nickname and glanced around to make sure that no one heard him. “Fine,” he growled. I'll hear you out but not now. After the party. Alfred will show you to my study and we can talk there. Send the arm candy home.” He moved to walk away but Oliver stopped him again.

“No dice, the 'arm candy' stays. She's on the team and she already knows everything.”

“I thought you said she was your fiancee?”

“She's that too. She's quite a few things, actually. And she stays,” he added firmly.

Bruce turned and saw the woman in question approaching them, looking right through him, her eyes locked on Oliver's. It was only then that Bruce noticed the emerald ring on her left hand. Some detective he was, missing that little clue. But then, he he'd had no reason to be looking for it.

“You two have one hour to make your case, then I'm gone.”

“One hour should be more than enough.” Oliver replied, then extended his arm to pull Chloe Sullivan close to him as she rejoined them, “Everything OK?” he asked her.

“Everything's fine now,” she said to Oliver, then smiled up at Bruce. “Sorry to run off like that. Business call, I know  _you_ can relate, Bruce.” Her green eyes met his defiantly, daring him to say something in response.

Yes, there was definitely something unsettling about this woman.

 **End Chapter.**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two  
**  
 _Gotham City...Wayne Manor...Late Evening...  
_  
Chloe circled the large cherry desk for the ninth time in as many minutes.

“It's boring,” she remarked.

“So you've said. Several times.”

“It has no personality.”

“So you've said as well.” Oliver grinned at her from his seat on the large leather sofa across the room. He and Chloe were waiting in Bruce Wayne's study and had been for some time. As Oliver well knew, a bored Chloe could be a cranky Chloe and after the first fifteen minutes, she's started taking out her frustration on the room's admittedly staid décor. Dark wood furniture, dark leather couches, dim lighting. Bruce obviously didn't while away his spare hours watching HGTV. 

“And I suspect it's because  _he_ has no personality, either.”

“Sidekick, be nice...at least wait to get to know him before you insult him.”

'We know enough about him, we've been researching him for six months, and what I've learned, I don't like. He's not a team player, Ollie.”

“Maybe not now, but at some point...” Oliver patted the spot on the loveseat. “Come here, what's the purpose of you wearing that dress if you're going to stand all the way over there?”

She cocked her head to one side. “So you could admire me from afar and thoughtfully consider all the things you're going to do when you get me out of it.”

“I can admire you better from right here and, believe me when I say this, I've been thoughtfully considering it all night.”

That got her color up, and it thrilled him that he could do that to her so easily. She crossed the room and settled next to him with her head and hand on his chest. “Behave yourself,” she warned.

Oliver took advantage of her position to run his fingers down her bare back, from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine, where the fabric of the dress started, just millimeters before a misdemeanor. 

“With all the evidence you have to date, how do you like those odds, Professor?” He titled her head back for a kiss, one that deepened with minimal effort on his part, he noted. 

They both started at the sound of the study door slamming, parting to see Bruce staring down at them. Somehow, they'd both missed the sound of the door opening.

“I see you figured out how to amuse yourselves while you were waiting,” Bruce said dryly before heading for his desk, shedding his tuxedo jacket in the process.

Oliver winked at Chloe. They certainly weren't going to apologize. They did both rise to move to the chairs in front of Bruce's desk, though.

“First things first,” he said to Oliver. “You going to tell me how you figured it out. I like to think I covered my tracks rather well.” Oliver exchanged a glance with Chloe. 

Somehow 'You told us yourself, twenty years into our future, on a space station orbiting the moon,' didn't seem appropriate. 

Thankfully, Chloe could think on her feet. “You did, but once you know what to look for – which I do - you can spot certain signs. I figured out what Oliver was doing in his spare time without much trouble. So when I heard about Gotham's costumed vigilante, I knew where to start.” she explained.

“Have a lot of experience with costumed vigilantes, do you, Miss Sullivan?”

“I think it's fair to say that you're not likely to find anyone else on the planet who has more,” she replied evenly and her response filled Oliver with pride. 

“And this team of yours?” Bruce turned to Oliver. “You really think it's making a difference?”

“Certainly at least as much as you're making a difference here.” Chloe retorted, completely ignoring the fact that Bruce hadn't been addressing her.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “I meant no offense.”

“And yet you nailed it with effortless ease...” Chloe added breezily.

Oliver sensed that this meeting would be heading off the rails soon if he didn't pull it back.

“And we're all going to try a to be a little thicker skinned from now on, right? Bruce, what specifically do you want to know about our team?” 

“Your people...I understand that many of them have certain...abilities. They're enhanced in some way.”

“That's not a question,” Oliver observed.

“Are you confirming or denying it?”

“Are you just fishing for information or are you actually considering our offer?” Chloe interrupted, “Because if it's the former, let's not waste any more of each other's time.”

“I'm considering it. But I need to know more. You knew to come to my house to find Batman, I'm looking for some basic answers.”

Chloe leaned back in her chair and sent Oliver a look that he knew meant she wanted him to decide how much to share. The subtle nod she added said she would support his decision.

“Some members of my team have certain abilities, beyond those of the average human. The origins of these abilities vary.”

“Abilities that in the wrong hands or the wrong frame of mind could be used as weapons.” Bruce mused flatly.

“No, the point of the League is to provide an outlet and structure for just the opposite.”

“And who's watching to make sure that happens? You two?” Bruce challenged looking from Chloe to Oliver. 

Chloe leaned forward in her chair. “Correct me if I'm wrong, Bruce, but isn't your alter ego sitting on several million dollars worth of weaponry? By my research the car alone is worth about twenty million and is a virtual urban tank.”

“Do I want to know how you came by that information?” Bruce asked through clenched teeth.

“Network security, look into it,” she said with an eye roll. “My point is, who's watching you to make sure you don't decide to turn on the city you're protecting?”

“We're not talking about me here.”

“And we're not allowed to judge you by the same standard you're using for us and our people? Kind of hypocritical, don't you think?”

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going nowhere fast, largely due to Chloe's temper. He couldn't really blame her, Bruce was being a jerk but Chloe...the two of them were going to need to go over the meaning of the word “finesse” before they did anymore recruiting.

“I...am not one of your people. I don't have questionable abilities that make me a walking risk to national security!”

“Not according to your PR. What's the working theory on Batman this week? Vampire? Besides, she has a point, what would the Defense Department classify your arsenal as if not a security risk? Expensive toys?” Oliver asked, finally getting a word in.

“All of this is moot. I won't align myself with anyone I can't trust and you haven't even begun to make a case that I can trust you or your people.”

With a confirming look at Oliver, Chloe stood and reached into her evening bag. Extracting the desired object, she rounded Bruce's desk. Oliver noted the immediate change in Bruce's carriage. He straightened and pulled back, ready to defend himself.

Chloe slapped the small, black object on the desk on the desk in front of Bruce. “Here, you want to talk trust? We're trusting you with the information on that drive. It contains details on our team and what they can do. You'll also find information on what we've been working on for the past year which is trying to stop Lex Luthor from doing exactly what you said, turning meta humans into weapons under his control. Read it and you might understand a tenth of what we're up against here. I've stripped all the identifying data off that, by that way. No names, places, or faces.”

Bruce smirked. “What happened to trust?”

“We can't control what you do with that data driver after you read it. There's more information there than any other person outside the League has ever seen. Since you've been sitting on the Green Arrow's identity for this long, and we've been sitting on your identity, we'd like to think that we've got the whole professional courtesy thing going here. But...” she trailed off.

“But what?”

“You can't be too careful,” she finished and retook her seat next to Oliver. 

Bruce picked up the drive, turned it over in his hand, and placed it in his pocket. “I don't make rash decisions.” he told them. “So don't expect to hear from me right away. I have far too much going on this city to drop everything just because you two decide to pop in for a visit.”

Oliver stood. “Gracious as always, Bruce. We'll be at the Gotham Palace Hotel for the next few days if you need to reach us.” He extended his hand to help Chloe out of her chair.

Bruce stood as well. “One more thing...like I said, there is too much going on in this city to add another costume to the mess. I'd advise you and your team to stay off Gotham's streets  _and rooftops_  at night. Are we clear?”

“Relax, Batsy. We already know that you're territorial. We know a lot about you. But you don't need to worry. Chloe and I are here alone and we're on vacation.” Oliver slipped an arm around Chloe's waist. “And we have other ways of keeping ourselves entertained at night.”

Before Bruce could answer, Chloe pointed to the window. The reflection of the Batsignal bobbed faintly against the clouds. “Bruce, it looks like you've got a message waiting.”

*****  
 _Penthouse Suite...Gotham Palace Hotel...later that evening...  
_  
“All right, AC, hang back now and let the Coast Guard take over. Good job,” Chloe said into her comm.

 _“Confirmed, Tower.”  
_  
“And remind Victor to download the Coast Guard incident report for our files. They usually have them posted in about eighteen hours.”

 _“Eighteen hours, got it. So, bossman driving you crazy yet?”  
_  
“Be careful what you say, AC. He's right next to me. And no, he's not.” Chloe looked over at Oliver, stretched out beside her, wearing just his boxers, some QI files he had been trying to read discarded beside him.

 _“I figured he was. He's usually not far. I should probably let you guys get back to your 'vacation' – Thanks for the help tonight, Tower. Aquaman out.”  
_  
“Watchtower out.” Chloe pulled the comm from her ear and closed out the programs on her laptop, before stowing it on the nightstand beside the bed.

She scooted over and laid her head on Oliver's chest. 

“How'd it go?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“It's fine. AC handled it. Leaving him in charge this time was a good idea.”

“It was mine,” Oliver pointed out. “I have many good ideas.”

“Such as taking a mini-vacation in a city that's the crime capital of the East Coast?” she teased.

“Technically, that's Bludhaven. Gotham's number two.”

“I stand corrected.” 

They lay quietly for a few minutes before Oliver spoke again. “I think we antagonized him too much. He's not going to say yes.” She knew he was talking about Bruce even though Oliver had not said his name.

“The chances of him saying yes on the first go were pretty slim anyway. He said so himself...twenty years from now. He warned us that he was going to be an ass. Nothing I saw tonight disputes that.” 

“I know...you're right...” he trailed off, rubbing his hand over her back through her black silk nightgown.

“But...what's bothering you?”

He sighed. “Something Moira said while we were on the station – you were still recovering - she said that when they were kids, Bruce would come over and play Clue with them at Thanksgiving.”

“Bruce? Bruce  _Wayne_  would do this?”

“Exactly. How do we get from the guy we talked to tonight to  _that_ guy?”

“Something tells me it's going to take more than one meeting.”

Oliver made a noise in his throat and Chloe lifted her head. “Seriously, Ollie. We have no idea when in the next twenty three years Batman joins the League. All we know is that he does. If he says 'no' now, that doesn't mean he won't change his mind somewhere down the line.” She stroked his chest in an attempt to relax him. “And honestly, based on how we all got along tonight, it's probably a good thing if he says 'no' now.”

Oliver sat up a higher on his pillows so he could look at her. “I know, in my head that all makes sense but...it still feels like we've been spinning our wheels since we got back,” then he quickly added when Chloe waved her left hand at him, “Sorry, at least as far as the League is concerned. I mean, we haven't made any headway tracking down where this Green Lantern person is or where Diana is from, let alone when or how they joined the team...From what the older Victor said, there are at least two dozen members on the future Justice League who we haven't even identified yet. It would be nice if we could just get one piece of the puzzle in place.”

“Oliver, you're trying to cram twenty years of the League's future onto a six month To Do list!”

“I'm not.” He retorted and paused. “Am I?”

“Yeah, little bit.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll try to pull back. It's just that our life and the League...it's kind of the same thing and I keep thinking that if we screw something up with the League's future...”

“We'll affect something with us and the kids?” Chloe finished for him. 

“I know of doesn't make sense but then neither does getting pulled through time to meet your unborn children.”

Chloe rose up and swung her leg over Oliver's, straddling his body with her legs and leaning her weight back on his thighs. 

“Oliver, if we spend the next twenty years worrying if anything we do could change the future, we're going to go crazy. I thought we agreed that what we saw didn't scare us.”

Oliver wrapped his hands around her waist to pull her closer. “I'm not scared of the future we saw, I'm scared of  _not_ getting it. I want it, Chloe. I want it so badly.”

Chloe smiled at him and leaned forward to give him a lingering kiss. When she pulled back, she looked at him levelly. “Then we'll just have to make sure we get it. You have a date with me in two months, be sure you don't miss it or I'll figure out a way to have the entire League – present and future - hunt you down,” she teased, referring to their wedding date in eight weeks. “And after that, we'll just have to see what happens.” 

They had agreed that she wouldn't go off her birth control at least until after the wedding, when they were sure that they were used to the 'being married' thing before being thrown into the 'oh, my God, we have twins' thing.

However, it looked like Oliver was getting impatient. He had seen his future and he wanted it to start right now.

“Ollie, I don't think we've done anything to jeopardize our future. I love you, you love me, and we're already surrounded by the people who we want to be part of our family when the time comes. We've got most of the pieces are in place already. We just have to figure out the rest as It happens.” She kissed him again, longer this time, running her hands up his bare chest. 

When she pulled back a second time, Oliver didn't let her go far. His palms pressed into her thighs and his long archer's fingers flexed on her hips. “I like the way you give pep talks, Sidekick...” he looked down at her attire – a short black silk and lace nightgown - as if seeing it for the first time. “Please tell me you didn't have the webcam on when you were talking to the guys earlier, while you were wearing  _that_.”

“Relax, you're the only one who gets my special “Lingerie Pep Talks.”

“Good, let's keep it that way. Now...I have an idea. Let's try making some babies,” he whispered into her ear before flipping their bodies so she was on her back underneath him.

Chloe let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan as she landed on the mattress and his hands started roaming underneath her nightgown. “You do remember that I can't get pregnant now, right?” she asked.

Oliver's lips were on her stomach, near her bellybutton and moving lower. “Of course I do,” he replied against her skin, “But there's nothing wrong with practicing...and practicing...and practicing some more so that when the time comes, we get it right. I'm a firm believer in practice. Made me the man I am today.”

Chloe really couldn't find anything wrong with that argument. She wondered if she should point out that, technically speaking, only about half of what they had done in bed – and elsewhere - over the last six months could actually result in babies.

She felt his fingers sliding her underwear down her thighs. 

Nope, no need to distract him with such details. 

 **End Chapter.**


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three  
**  
 _Penthouse Suite...Gotham Palace Hotel...the following evening...  
_  
By the next evening, even Chloe had to agree that Gotham City was more interesting and more fun than she had expected. Oliver had obviously been to the city before and knew it had more to it's credit than costumed maniacs but Chloe had not. They'd spent the day walking through the historic district, visiting museums, and had eaten lunch and then dinner at two wonderful restaurants before coming back to their hotel suite for the night. 

Chloe wiggled her stockinged feet from her spot on the sofa in the suite's sitting room. “Next time we come here, remind me to wear comfortable shoes. The cobblestones are quaint and everything but they hurt like Hell in heels.”

Oliver smiled and pulled her feet into his lap. She gave a little purr of contentment and snuggled deeper into the cushions as he began to massage the soles of her feet. “If I promise to massage your feet, will you still wear the heels, for me?” he teased. He enjoyed watching what heels did for her legs and butt too much to let a little thing like foot pain ruin it. 

“I'll wear them for you, anytime, Ollie, just not on cobblestones.”

He continued rubbing and enjoying the little sounds she was making for a few minutes more. He was going to suggest that they try out the marble soaking tub in the bathroom when his cell phone rang. He checked the display and even though the number was unfamiliar, he answered anyway.

“Queen.”

 _“Meet me on the roof. One hour,”_  a familiar gravelly voice all but snarled before the connection cut off.

Oliver turned to Choe. “I think we're going to get an answer.”

“Bruce?”

Oliver tried redialing the number and got a bold 'ACCESS DENIED' message on his screen. “It's gotta be. The only other person I know that's this paranoid about tech is you.”

Fifty-eight minutes later, Oliver was suited up in his Green Arrow gear – sans his vocal distorter, which he thought would be pointless for this meeting - waiting on the roof of the hotel when he felt, rather than heard, someone land behind him. On instinct, he reached for his bow, before relaxing when he saw the horned cowl and cape.

“I thought I told you no working in my city,” Batman growled, taking in his attire.

 _“Incoming, one territorial ass,”_ Chloe commented on the comm in his ear. 

She had said she would try to keep her comments on the comm to a minimum during this meeting but Oliver knew that sometimes, she just could not resist. It was probably a good thing that she hadn't wanted to come along in person.

“Unclench, Batsy. I'm only out tonight because you called me, remember? And I'm suited up because you being seen with Oliver Queen is not such a smart idea.”

Batman didn't comment, which Oliver took to mean that he agreed. Instead, he stepped closer and Oliver was able to gert a better look at his attire. The basic design was similar to the outfit that the future Batman had worn. Fully black, molded body armor, cape, horned cowl. The bat insignia on his chest was different and Oliver could see that the armor itself was thinner than what the older Batman wore. Interesting. 

“I read over what you gave me,” Batman said. “And cross-referenced what I could with some of my own sources. If what you say about the Luthor is true...the man is insane.”

“It's true. Everyone knows that his business practices aren't legal, but we're talking crimes against humanity here.”

“Can you prove it?”

“He's blocked every attempt at prosecution. Quite easily. You know how much power someone like him has over the legal system. It's a game to him.”

“So you've decided to destroy his operation.”

“If you've got a better plan, I'd love to hear it.”

“Would you kill him, if it came to that?”

“We're hoping it doesn't come to that.” 

“But if it does?” Batman pressed.

Oliver grew annoyed. “How about you let me know the answer to that the next time that wacko in the purple suit breaks out of Arkham?”

Batman glowered at him.

“That's what I thought. Ideals will only take you so far, when the shit comes down, you do what you have to do.”

“I don't disagree with you.”

“But...?”

“I work alone. What you're doing, it needs to be done but I can't help you.”

“The thing about people being experimented on in these labs, dying, you did  _read_ that part, right?”

“I have a city to protect! People die here too, you know. The rest of the country can crack jokes about this town but I'm trying to change it.”

“You would have our support here in Gotham, too, when you needed it. That's how this team works.”

“I said... I work alone. I don't want your team in my city. I don't need them here.”

 _“He doesn't trust us.”_  Chloe said in Oliver's ear. “ _It's the powers. He doesn't trust the powers.”  
_  
“I think I understand what this is about now and I'll have you know that the people on my team could hide away and live normal lives and no one would ever be the wiser. But they chose to do this, putting themselves at risk. It's no different that what you do. These abilities that they have, they didn't ask for them. Not anymore than you asked for  _anything_ that made you what you are!” Oliver knew the moment the words were out of his mouth that Batman would bolt.  Oliver wished he could take the reference to what had happened to the Waynes back, as veiled as it was, but it was too late. Not that it would make a difference. He had already said no. Now he was angry as well.

“I'm done talking to you,” Batman growled. “I gave you the courtesy of an answer. You can get out of my city now.” He turned and fired a line from a grapple gun and disappeared off the roof before Oliver could say another word.

“Well, he said he was an ass...” Oliver said out loud.

 _“At least we know he wasn't lying about that.”  
_  
*****  
 _Wayne Manor...the following afternoon...  
_  
Chloe frowned as she followed Oliver and Bruce Wayne's kind butler Alfred through the Manor the following day. “Remind me why we're here. He made it pretty clear what his answer was last night.”

“Trust,” Oliver whispered back. “We shared a lot of information with him. I want his personal assurance that it stays with him.”

Chloe nodded, her eyes on Alfred. Was it her imagination or was he watching them out of the corner of his eye? They reached the doors that led them to the study. 

Alfred turned to them. “If you'll excuse me, let me make sure that Master Bruce is able to entertain guests at this time.” 

He disappeared into the study while Chloe mouthed 'Master Bruce?' to Oliver. He only shrugged in response. She stared at him for a moment longer and he frowned. “Don't look at me like that. All my people call me Mr. Queen, I swear.” 

Chloe nodded in relief.

Alfred emerged from behind the doors, holding it open for them. “Master Bruce can see you but only for a short time.”

They found Bruce sitting on the sofa in the study, dressed casually in a simple button-down shirt and pants, the newspaper spread over his lap. He didn't stand to greet them, which Chloe found rude but not surprising. His first words to them were not surprising either. 

“I don't have anything more to say to either of you.”

“Wow, you're even more of a ray of sunshine during the daytime hours,” Chloe told him. “Don't bother getting up. We aren't staying long.”

“Why are you here?” Bruce spat out, his voice almost as hoarse and harsh as when he was in costume.

“Given how you refused our offer, Chloe and I are understandably concerned about how much information you have about our operation. We want your personal assurance that what we shared with you will remain a secret.”

“Fine,” Bruce said quietly.

“You've heard of honor among thieves, we're asking for honor among vigilante heroes,” Chloe continued.

“I said FINE, you have my assurance.” Bruce snapped. “Now GO!!!” Bruce growled. 

It was then that Chloe noticed the beads of sweat on Bruce forehead and his cheek.

Batman? Sweating? In this drafty old manor? Her mind replayed her observations of Bruce Wayne and his alter ego to date, and her own research on the caped vigilante.

Bruce, who broke up a gang war minutes before his own birthday party, then donned a tux to and charm a ballroom full of rich sycophants.

Batman, who swung from the rooftops of the world's most dangerous city on a nightly basis?

Sweating because they interrupted him while reading the paper?

Not bloody likely. 

Bruce's demeanor seemed to anger Oliver and he lashed back. “What the Hell is the matter with you? Are you that much of a self-centered--” 

Chloe reached out and gripped Oliver''s arm to cut him off.

“Oliver! Stop!” Chloe commanded. She rushed forward and took a closer look at Bruce. Spotting what seemed amiss, she yanked away the newspaper on his lap and pulled up his shirt, ignoring his protests.

Sure enough, there was a wide bandage wrap around his middle. It seemed to have been professionally applied, which indicated that the wound it covered had at one point been properly dressed. However, an ugly splotch of dark red led her to believe that the wound may have reopened.

“What happened?” Chloe demanded, her hands already peeling at the bandages. Bruce stopped fighting her, which was certainly a sign of just how much pain he was in. When he didn't answer, she asked again. “What happened, Bruce?!”

“'Gunshot would. Close range. Hollow tip, ripped through the kevlar.”

Behind her, Chloe distantly heard the study door open and Oliver yell for Alfred. “The bullet?” she asked.

“Through and through,” he explained. “Had a doctor fix me up last night.”

“The wound seems to have reopened since then. What did you do, run a marathon or something in the meantime?” she asked archly.

“I didn't ask for your help,” Bruce retorted, sweat beads sliding down his pale face.

Alfred arrived and gasped audibly at the sight of the wound. “Dear Lord...I'll call the doctor.” he said crossing the room to reach the phone on Bruce's desk. 

“He's running a fever,” Chloe told Oliver before turning back to Bruce.. “This might be infected. I don't suppose this doctor gave you anything for that?”

“She did, but he refused to take it,” Alfred said as he dialed. “He never takes any drugs willingly.”

“Don't talk about me like I'm a child, Alfred.” Bruce said, teeth clenched.

Chloe drilled him with her eyes. “Shut up. You may work alone but you need someone to watch your stupid ass or you'll be dead in a year.” She pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and Oliver grabbed her shoulder.

“Chloe, you don't have to prove  _anything_ to him,” he said anxiously.

“I know that, Ollie, but I'm going to do it anyway.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek, then stroked it with her hand. “I love you. It will be OK, I promise.”

“What are you two talking about?” Bruce demanded.

“This is what I do.” Chloe told him, a second before placed her hands over his wound. The light flashed and the pain came quickly...then darkness...

When she opened her eyes again, she was laying on the couch in Bruce's study, where he had been before, blankets wrapped securely around her, her head in Oliver's lap.

She saw his face break into a weary smile when he saw that she was awake. “Hey, you. Are you warm enough?” She nodded and closed her eyes again for a moment to enjoy the feel of his hand stroking her hair. The pain was gone and she didn't feel cold or empty. Just thirsty.

Before she could ask for water, Oliver propped her body up against his side to reach for the glass of ice water on the coffee table, which he handed to her. “Here you go, don't try to talk until you've finished this.” She nodded again and drained the glass in two long gulps.

It was amazing how much easier this was when she knew that Oliver would be there when she awoke. She handed him the glass and leaned against him again. Then she looked up when she felt the others in the room watching her. Bruce, seated across from them near his desk and Alfred, standing by the door, both looking at her with no small amount of amazement. 

“You explained?” she asked Oliver, praying that he hadn't left it for her to do.

“Yeah, I covered it. Doesn't mean they believed me. You were out for an hour, by the way. I gave them the Cliffs Notes version,” he said.

“Mr. Queen, I can still call the doctor if necessary. She treats Master Bruce regularly, she's very...discreet.”

“It's not necessary, Alfred. She'll be OK now. We know how to handle this but thank you.”

Alfred nodded and looked meaningfully at Bruce for a moment. When the younger man said nothing, Alfred excused himself and left the room. 

Oliver pushed the blankets off of her. “Can you stand?” When she nodded, he squeezed her hand. “Let's go then.”

Bruce stood and crossed the room to stand directly in front of her. “I gave you no reason to do what you did for me. Thank you.”

“You're right, you didn't,” Chloe could not resist responding but added, “But you're welcome.”

“This doesn't change anything.” Bruce said defensively.

“We didn't think it would and that's not why Chloe did it. Now get out of the way...”

“Wait.” Bruce repeated. “I want to explain something to you, both of you, before you leave.” 

Chloe took in the uncharacteristically emotional look on Bruce's face and patted Oliver's arm.

“C'mon. Let's hear him out.”

*****  
Oliver felt the pressure from Chloe's fingers on his arm and heard the inflection in her voice when she said, ““C'mon. Let's hear him out,” and decided to agree rather than tire her out with an argument. If it were up to him, though, they would be done talking to Bruce Wayne for a very long time.

He re-seated himself on the sofa and pulled Chloe close to him. “You have five minutes,” he told Bruce.

“I can't be a part of your team. I have no experience in that kind of environment. It wouldn't work.”

“So you've said, repeatedly. You'll note that we stopped arguing with you on that point once we spent some actual time with you,” Chloe told him.

“And then there's the fact that you don't trust the people on our team because of their abilities,” Oliver added.

“It's not just because of their abilities, although I'm not going to deny that it's a factor. I'm not going to apologize for having issues trusting people. This is what has kept me alive so far.”

“That you aren't dead already is certainly not for lack of trying on your part but it's really not our concern anymore. Feel free to abuse yourself in all sorts of interesting ways,” Chloe shot back. “Five minutes up yet?”

“Maybe sometime in the future but not now.” Bruce said unexpectedly.

Oliver thought his ears had stopped working. “Excuse me?”

“I said, maybe someday...I will be able to work with your team but not now. You two have a defined purpose for this League of yours and you know what your goal is. I'm not a part of that and I can't be, not until I know what my plan is for this city. I don't even know what I would consider success here, let alone how long it's going to take. This has to be my priority. I've put too much in to it change now. I wouldn't even know how.”

Oliver and Chloe exchanged glances, unsure how to react to Bruce's sudden burst of honesty.

“I respect what you're doing about Luthor. Someone should be doing something. If I...gather any intel on him in my work, I'll send it to you. I can't agree to a working relationship but I hope we won't be on opposing sides.” Bruce finished, then pushed his hands into his pockets. His shirt was rumpled and blood stained, his hair messed and sticking to his face in places.

He looked nothing like the tuxedo-clad playboy from the other night. He looked...alone.

Oliver stood and caught Chloe's hand. “I don't know what to say, Bruce.”

“You don't have to say anything. I just...I wanted you both to know that. I trust you know how to reach me if you need to. You can show yourselves out.” Bruce left the room without another word, disappearing into the dark corridors of his mansion.

As Oliver helped Chloe to the door, she tilted her head at him. “Not quite the answer we thought we were going to get, was it?”

“No, I don't think it was the answer he planned to give either. But it's a start.”

*****  
 _Batcave...Meanwhile...  
_  
Bruce watched them leave the Manor from the security monitors on his console in the Batcave. 

For a moment he had been tempted to tell them yes, and figure that he could learn how to function in their environment as he went. So much of his role as Batman had not gone exactly as planned and he had adapted. Couldn't he adapt to that as well?

Likely not.

It was true that the idea of a League made up largely of people with superhuman abilities gave him pause, but that wasn't the only reason.

The fact was, Batman did not fit in that world yet. He wasn't ready. He wasn't sure the time would come that he would ever be ready but that time certainly wasn't now. 

Oliver Queen, Chloe Sullivan and their friends thought they could save the world.

Bruce Wayne still needed to be convinced that the world wanted saving. 

 **The End.**


End file.
